


Hit Rewind: A Four-Letter Word And Its Variants Through The Ages

by siephilde42



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Canon-Compliant, Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Crowley is a 6000-year old pine tree, Don't copy to another site, First Kiss, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Missing Scenes, More like time-bending, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Time Travel, rated T for some swears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-17 16:50:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20624348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siephilde42/pseuds/siephilde42
Summary: Crowley actually tries to declare his love several times through the ages, but because of the angel's reaction, he repeatedly ends up rewinding time to erase the love confessions.OR:Five times Crowley rewinds time to heal his broken heart, and one time he doesn't.





	1. Oysters

**Author's Note:**

> The underlying idea is not mine; this story is based on the following Twitter thread. https://twitter.com/burnthetoaster/status/1170604746735906817?s=21. 
> 
> Update: @burnthetoaster's version is now up too, see https://archiveofourown.org/works/21147776!

It is over oysters it happens for the first time. Aziraphale has been so kind to invite Crowley to Petronius' restaurant, which encourages him to open up. Add to this the fact that both of them have not been sober for quite a while, and you have the perfect recipe for disaster.

"It'sss awful kind of you to sshow me thisss place, angel", Crowley says, slurring.

"Oh, hush. You're quite delightful company, to be honest. It's nice to see you again."

"Really. What would your superiors say if they were to see us? An angel and a demon, drinking wine and slurping oysters in harmony. Scandalousss", the demon mocks, but his tone is light.

"As I said, you're good company", the angel repeats, trying to suck out another oyster, but failing, so that he gets slime on his toga. "Oh", he calls out, frustrated. "Look at that. How am I going to get the stain out?"

Crowley snickers. "You could just..."

"Just what?", the angel calls out, wiping around at the spot with a napkin.

The demon takes pity. "Allow me." With a blow, the stain is gone.

"Oh! How nice", Aziraphale exclaims.

Crowley shakes his head and chuckles. "Could have done it yourself, you know."

"Yes, but that's so much better. You doing it for me. For a demon, you're rather a dear fellow."

The demon smiles. "You're not so bad yoursself, angel. You're a quite lovely creature. One might even sssay lovable."

"Lov... lovable?", the angel asks, panic in his voice.

Crowley's face drops.

Aziraphale is on his feet now, his voice shrill. "You... can't call me lovable. Impossible."

_I went too far_, the demon realises with a pang.

The angel turns, making his way to the exit. Before he can leave, though, Crowley snaps his fingers.

*

"Yes, but that's so much better. You doing it for me. For a demon, you're rather a dear fellow."

This time, Crowley's smile is strained. "Oh, stop talking nonsense."


	2. Crepes

After the oyster disaster, Crowley takes care not to use a certain four-letter word in the presence of the angel. This goes surprisingly well, for over a millennium. Until the angel decides to invite him for crepes.

He rejoices when he hears Aziraphale calling out his name in delight.

_Just ridiculous. How did you get yourself into this mess?_

"I got peckish", the angel explains. 

_Bloody moron_, the demon thinks, but does not say aloud. Instead, he sets the angel free and lets him invite himself for lunch.

As usual, Crowley enjoys watching the angel eat more than his own food. _This is how it should be. Indulging in the pleasures of this world. This is honouring creation. _It almost feels like a religious ritual to see Aziraphale eat. Crowley chuckles at this thought.

Aziraphale stops eating and frowns. "What?"

"No, nothing", the demon replies, signalling him with a wave to continue eating - no, devouring - crepes.

The angel shrugs his shoulders and digs in again.

"Hmm. Quite scrumptious", Aziraphale determines when he is done, licking his fingers clean.

"I'm glad they were worth the trouble", the demon replies dryly.

The angel laughs. "Well, _I_'m glad you happened to be around. Quite a coincidence."

_Coincidence. Right_, the demon thinks bitterly. 

"And it was nice of you to come to my rescue." He beams at Crowley with a smile that turns his insides into goo.

Before the demon can stop himself - of course they are tipsy as usual - he blurts out "Nice? You think I'm doing this out of kindness? I'm not."

Aziraphale stares at him. "Then why...?"

"Sselfishness, angel. I don't want to lose you, the love of..." He stops himself, realising what he has said as well as Aziraphale's reaction.

This time, the angel does not jump up, but the look at his face is unmistakably horrified.

_No. Not again_, the demon thinks with a sinking heart and raises his hand.

*

"And it was nice of you to come to my rescue", the angel says.

"If you say so", the demon replies in a flat voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: In an earlier version, Crowley invites Aziraphale for crepes. I changed it when I realised while rewatching that this was the wrong way around.


	3. Chocolates

The next time it happens, it is a honest accident.

The angel has decided to open a bookshop, and Crowley takes great pains to create a box of sweet chocolates for the angel, way before the humans realise that that might be a neat idea. He miracles some flowers into being, as well.

After Crowley has helped Aziraphale to get rid of the annoying archangels who wanted to remove the principality from Earth and his beloved bookshop, he finally can hand him both.

"Oh!", the angel exclaims. "They smell delicious." He unwraps one of the pralines and pops it into his mouth. "And they taste _heavenly_".

_As they should_, Crowley thinks, and smiles. He has spent days on picking the flavours and hours on manually wrapping each single one of them, after all.

"Hmm", the angel moans. "Want one, too?" He extends his hand to offer one of the chocolates to Crowley.

Crowley fights the sudden, dangerous impulse to accept the offer by eating it out of the angel's hand. Resisting the temptation and quite embarrassed, he lies. "I already had some while ma... miracling them. They're yours."

"More for me, then", the angel states and gobbles it up. "Perfect. Just perfect", he smiles.

"Glad to hear it", the demon mumbles.

"And those flowers", Aziraphale says, picking up the bouquet. "What do they mean?"

"I... sorry, what?"

"I mean, humans assign different meanings to different flowers, don't they?", the angel asks.

Crowley breaks out into sweat. He does know that, theoretically, and is also aware of a bunch of meanings, but because he has spent so much time on the chocolates, he has not devoted much conscious thought when miracling the flower bouquet as an addition. _What did I put in there?_

Humming, the angel removes the paper from the flowers. "What do we have here? Red carnations. Pride, beauty, admiration, lo..." He breaks off and points at another flower. White chrysanthemum, truth and loyal lo..." Again, he halts and takes a look at the last flower type. "Purple lilacs. First love." He looks up at Crowley, an all-too well-known expression on his face. Pure horror.

_And this time, I didn't even say it_, the demon thinks in resignation, bringing his fingers together.

*

"Perfect. Just perfect", the angel praises.

"Glad to hear it", Crowley replies, quickly swapping out the flowers with others.

When Aziraphale opens the bouquet, it contains only Alstromeria flowers this time.

"Wealth, prosperity, fortune, friendship. Thank you, Crowley._"_

_Well. At last he didn't flinch at 'friendship'_, the demon thinks, suddenly feeling very tired. So tired...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read a brilliant thread on Twitter elaborating on the fact that Crowley gave Aziraphale sweet chocolates as a gift long before those were invented. If I find it again I will link to it here. For flower meanings, see https://www.theflowerexpert.com/content/aboutflowers/flower-meanings. The idea of Crowley conveying his feelings to Aziraphale via flower meanings is entertained for example in this chapter of "Crowley's Catalogue": https://archiveofourown.org/works/19081246/chapters/48311179 (If you haven't read CC yet, please do, it's lovely!)  
If I remember correctly, I read also another fanfiction where the bouquet contained red carnations, which I'll link here if I find it again.
> 
> A big thank you to SolemnArt/@SolemnRosary on Twitter for the illustration of Crowley bringing flowers and chocolates! This drawing might be my favourite one by SolemnArt so far (along with the illustration for Bench Epilogue). The tweet is here: https://twitter.com/SolemnRosary/status/1178734530099924999/photo/1


	4. Books

So tired, that he in fact, sleeps through almost the entire 19th century, with some exceptions, one exception being a serious fall-out with Aziraphale, which does not give him any motivation to stay awake.

It takes a ruined church and a bag of books for Crowley to declare love again.

"Little demonic miracle of my own" he says, not missing the effect those words have on Aziraphale. When their fingers casually brush, it sends shivers down his spine. The look on the angel's face gives him hope for the first time in over a century.

"Lift home?", he asks, not hiding his smile.

The angel agrees. The drive itself is quiet, Crowley musing. He senses that Aziraphale is deep in thought, too.

When they arrive at the bookshop, the angel starts to say something, breaks off, starts again and breaks up again. Finally, he says "Um, do you want to get inside and maybe have a look at the books you saved? I believe I have some good wine, too."

"Sure thing. I don't care much for the books, but wine sounds jolly good."

Some hours later, Aziraphale is still rambling about the books and the prophecies they contain. Contrary to his own expectations, Crowley actually enjoys the ramblings. It is an opportunity to see the angel _excited_ about something, after all. And some of the prophecies are very bizarre, others are surprisingly precise and accurate, which makes for good entertainment. The ones which concern the future are interesting, too.

"This one predicts that before the turn of the next century, humans will go into space", Aziraphale reads, lying on the sofa and legs dangling over the armrest, an unusual relaxed position for the angel.

"Oh, I think, at the rate their technical progress goes, this might very well be correct", the demon judges and downs another glass of wine in one a large gulp. "It's the moral progress humans are struggling with." He thinks of the things happening over all the world right now, and shudders.

"Says a demon."

"Says a demon, yes."

"It's not all bad. They have literature. Art."

"Yes, yes. Literature, art, fine drinking and eating, astronomy, other science, philosophy, and lo..." He swallows down the last word.

"And love, yes. What do you think of love, actually? Just... just wondering."

Crowley almost drops his glass. _He brings it up himself? That's new. _

When he turns to look at Aziraphale, the angel has an expectant look on his face.

He breathes out. "Well... In general, I think it's often an illusion. A chemical imbalance."

Aziraphale repositions himself, his whole body facing Crowley now.

"Oh, come on. It's more than that. Take Romeo and Juliet."

_The lovers from two antagonised families? Honestly? _

"What about them?", he scoffs.

"Their story is told again and over again. There is a transcendent aspect to it, Crowley."

"Oh, come on. It is almost as if you expect me to say 'I'm in love with you'. What are you even saying?"

"Well, no, of course not. I mean, that would be...", the angel replies, some uneasiness in his voice, but not quite as panicked as over the oysters, crepes or chocolates.

A vague hope flares up in Crowley, and before he can stop himself, he adds "What if I am? In love with you?"

The hope dies down instantly when the angel jumps up, knocking over the wine bottle.

_It's Rome all over again_, the demon realises. He does not even need to think at all to rewind time. It is almost an unconscious act now.

*

"Their story is told again and over again. There is a transcendent aspect to it, Crowley."

"Sshut it, angel. It's all just human humbug. Storiesss they tell themselves to cope with their pitiful livesss", Crowley spits.

"All right. All right. There is no reason to be _that _unfriendly. Just was curious, is all."


	5. Paintballs

And then, it's time for the apocalypse. _Tempus fugit_, Crowley thinks in despair when they arrive at the former hospital. _It's just not going to happen, is it? He'll never return my feelings. And even worse, we'll be expected to fight each other. _

Aziraphale stops him. Crowley eyes him, curiously.

"It feels... loved."

_Well, I'm right here. But I don't think that's what you're feeling, is it?_

"Of course, you wouldn't understand", the angel says.

_Oh, are you kidding me? Bloody bastard._

Some moments later, the paintballs hit, and both exclaim in pain.

When the angel starts fussing, the demon thinks _Great. A stain again. _

And of course, he, again, miracles it away. He cannot help himself. Not with the angel looking at him like that. _Pathetic. _

Then, he helps a mini-war break out. Without anyone actually dying, mind you.

"... Wouldn't be fun otherwise", he hears himself say.

And Aziraphale beams at him, of course he does. "I've always thought, that you were, deep down, a nice person."

"Well. Anything for you, love", Crowley slips, returning the smile.

"Pa... pardon?", the angel stammers, and the demon closes his eyes in frustration, knowing which expression he would see at the angel's face, had he his eyes open. Unadulterated fear.

_This is becoming a cumbersome habit_, Crowley thinks to himself. _Learn to think before speaking, god damn it. _

Aziraphale starts mumbling. "Crowley, we can't... we shouldn't..."

_Of course we can't_, the demon thinks, feeling weary. _The same procedure as usual. Hit rewind. _

*

"I've always thought, that you were, deep down, a nice person."

Crowley snaps. "I'm a demon! I'm not nice!", he growls and pushes the angel against the wall. Even as he is doing it, he hates himself for it, even if the angel does not show any fear at this, not in the slightest. _You flinch back at a word, a goddamn word, but when I attack you, you are not afraid? You're maddening, angel. _Aloud, he says "Nice is a four-letter word." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The complete proverb is "Time fugit, amor manet" - Time flies, love stays


	6. To The World

He thought he had, long ago, arranged himself with not being an archangel any more. But now, now he wishes nothing more than to have his powers back. Not that useless, weakened version he has now, being a lowly demon. Not that version with which he can only stop time for a short while or rewind it for some minutes. Not that version which does not enable him to return to the bookshop, before... Before it all went to hell. Before... He takes another large gulp, determined to drink himself into oblivion and numbness.

When he sees Aziraphale, he is not sure that it is not a hallucination at first. It is not before Aziraphale mentions a specific book, the book which Crowley has saved from the fire, that it finally clicks. Aziraphale is alive. His blasted, beloved angel is _alive_. Discorporated, yes - details -, but he is still _there_.

"Souvenir", Crowley blurts out, voice wavering.

And then the angel tells him to get a _wiggle-on. _Crowley's external response might seem annoyed, but on the inside, he _laughs_. Laughs in disbelief and joy. His soul sings, and he feels light, exhilarated. _Let's save the world together, angel_, he thinks, and makes his way to Tadfield.

*

And of course, they do. Or provide moral support for the antichrist, at least.

"Tempt you to lunch?"

"Temptation accomplished", Aziraphale smirks.

Crowley does not know if the angel has given a stomach bug to the couple who would have occupied the table otherwise, or if his miracle has been of a more benevolent nature, and of course he does not care. All he cares about is that they are both sitting here now, and the world did not end.

"To the world." "To the world." _Because you're my world_, Crowley longs to say, but this time, he actually thinks before speaking aloud. _This has to be enough. And we will __have some time now. Who knows what things will look like in another 6,000 years?_, he thinks, and smiles.

The pianist plays a romantic tune, and Crowley turns his head to look at the piano.

"Lovely tune, isn't it?", he hears the angel say, and suddenly he feels a hand covering his own. Because the touch is entirely unexpected, he winces. "A... angel? What are you doing?", he exclaims.

At this, Aziraphale retracts his hand, very quickly. "I'm sorry. I, I thought..."

_No. No, don't pull away. _Crowley reaches out, grabbing Aziraphale's hand.

"No, it's _fine_. I'm... I'm just so confused. It's..."

"It's what?" The angel looks at him, showing no sign of discomfort at the touch, even if Crowley is gripping his hand quite firmly.

Crowley swallows hard._ Well. If that goes sideways, I just can use the usual fix, can't I? _"It's... It's just that I told you several times. And each time, you took it badly."

"Told me what, my dear?", the angel asks, his tone soft.

"That I'm... I'm in love with you", the demon stammers. He waits for the same panicked reaction as usual.

"Ah. I see", Aziraphale says, closing his other hand around Crowley's.

It is fortunate that, technically, the demon does not need to breathe, since he has completely forgotten how to do so.

"How come I don't remember?", Aziraphale asks.

"Ngk", Crowley says. "I, uh, rewound time. So that each time, you would forget what I said."

"Ah. That particular talent", the angel exclaims. "That bad, huh?"

"Uh... Yes. Each time, it was like 'no, no, angels and demons can't be in love'" His voice cracks. Suddenly, he tastes salt on his lips, and he realises that he has started crying.

"Would you mind stopping time for a short while, my dear?", the angel asks.

Crowley obliges - of course -, and the angel reaches out to remove his sunglasses. Without saying anything, Aziraphale takes Crowley's face into his hands, wiping away the tears with his thumbs.

"I... I don't understand", Crowley croaks. "What has changed? You're still an angel and I'm still a demon."

Aziraphale lets go of his face, putting his hand on Crowley's again. "What has changed is that Hell is now afraid of you, my dear. And Heaven is afraid of me, as well. You know, I was always afraid Hell would destroy you if they noticed you had been... _fraternising _with an angel. And I... I might have been afraid of falling, to be honest."

"You still might", Crowley mumbles.

"I'm an outcast in Heaven, either way. So even if I did, it wouldn't really matter", Aziraphale replies.

"You... can't mean that."

"Crowley, my dear. I'm not afraid any more. _That__'s _what has changed. Now, don't you want to kiss me?"

After a very short moment of hesitation, Crowley does.

No one of the people in the Ritz sees the kiss, all of them frozen in time. In fact, all living creatures in the surrounding area should be frozen. Inexplicably, there is still another creature except the angel and the demon which is not, a nightingale sitting in a tree in Berkeley Square, and it is singing.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea that Crowley only realises that Aziraphale is not a hallucination when he asks for the prophecy book is based on a tumblr post; if I ever find the post again I will link to it here :)
> 
> A big thank you to SolemnArt/@SolemnRosary on Twitter for the illustration of disbelieving/shocked Crowley! You can find the tweet here: https://twitter.com/SolemnRosary/status/1178632801475874817/photo/1


End file.
